I am good enough.

I am good enough.

I am not perfect, and that is okay. I may strive for perfection, to make my parents proud, to feel good about myself, but it is okay if I slip up, if I do less than perfect.

I am trans, I am queer, I have a mustache, I dropped out of art school, I went through a divorce, I go through bouts of depression, I struggle from ADHD, I struggle from various other things related to my mental health and well-being. And that is okay. I am still good enough.

None of these things are bad, but I have been conditioned by society to believe that they are. That being trans, I have to work harder to make myself and my parents proud. That going through a divorce, I should be ashamed of myself for not making things work out and bringing potential shame to my family. That struggling from mental health issues, I am squandering the opportunities given to me when my parents immigrated here for a better life.

No one is putting these pressures on me as hard as I am. I tell myself that despite the successes, despite the hard work I do, it is never good enough. There is always a flaw, an imperfection, a way to make myself feel bad. Don’t feel good yet, because there is so much more work to do.

“I’m just an insecure little bitch.” I say to my roommate.

“Hibby. Remember? No negative self-talk!” He says back to me.

I watch back a video I sent to my close friends over Snapchat.

“I did good today. But I feel bad. And I’m mad that I don’t feel good enough. Even though I looked so pretty today, I got so many compliments, I got so many compliments on my work. I feel bad because I was tired and stayed home tonight, and I overate, even though I walked 60 minutes today. And I was social, I met with someone, and I planned a thing…and I feel bad. And like I’m not good enough still, and that’s fucking insane…it’s just insane to me. It’s like insane, that like I can do so good with my life, and I can be an amazing scholar, an amazing person, amazing at so many things, and I don’t feel fucking good enough! I feel lonely, I feel…it fucking sucks. I wish I could just feel happy. And I feel happy, and then like, it gets to nighttime, and I’m just laying in bed, and I just feel lonely, and I feel like a failure, and I feel like…all these fucking things. It’s just…why? Why?!”

I tear up a little rewatching it. The pressure I put on myself can sometimes feel like I am holding myself by the throat, pushing myself down into water that I cannot breathe in. I will release my grip and pull back every now and then to allow a breath of fresh air, but not for long. It is only a matter of time before I make myself feel bad again. Before the inner critic tries to drown me once more. As the pressure around me ramps up, so does the internal pressure. The water level rises, and the intervals between breaths of fresh air decreases. It is only a matter of time before I run out of air, before I drown.

But I don’t have to drown like that. I can release the grip on my own throat. I can instead be kind to myself, give myself grace, and realize that I am not perfect, that I am good enough.

In fact, I can tell myself that I am more than good enough.

Despite the transphobia and queerphobia thrown my way, I am confident in my appearance, and continue to sport the mustache that continues to draw vitriol. Despite dropping out of art school, I pivoted to academia and am a promising junior scholar with a continued love and passion for writing and storytelling. Despite the divorce, I am learning what I want for my life and for my future relationships, which I would not have been able to do within my marriage. Despite my mental health issues, I am worth more than my brain tells me, and I am vulnerable and open with others about those issues, because they are part of what makes me human.

Despite everything, I got distinction on my program’s pre-candidacy milestone.

Despite everything, I publish well-cited research and am an expert in my fields.

Despite everything, I care deeply for the people around me, and for others going through the things I go through.

I am good enough.

And I will continue to work on getting comfortable telling myself and others that. I’m not cocky, I’m not a narcissist, I’m just acknowledging that I work hard, I care deeply, and I do my best.

And that is more than good enough.